


It's Saturday, Mulder

by avesuvianface (wendelah1)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: BDSM, Bad Fic, F/M, Humor, Parody, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendelah1/pseuds/avesuvianface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This had been fun, but lately, things had been getting, well, a bit out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Saturday, Mulder

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Virtual Season of Smut at Fandomonium, Season Three, for the episode "The Walk," under the pseudonym avesuvianface. There is a blink and you'll miss it spoiler for that episode.

"Mulder. Fox." Dana Scully, Special Agent, struggled to keep her voice calm and even. "What if I don't want to do this anymore," she said finally. "What if I think this is a mistake?"

Fox Mulder, Special Agent, looked up from the knots he was carefully tying to secure his partner, or rather his love-slave, to the light-weight aluminum gurney he had placed in the corner of her guest bedroom. Or rather, dungeon, he reminded himself. This is a dungeon. And I am In Charge here.

"Well, Dana, then I guess you can always use your safe-word," he said cheerfully. "And that would be Master to you, missy," he corrected her sternly. He hoped. He finished tightening the knots and started looking around the room for the ball-gag. No, maybe he didn't want her gagged this time. Maybe he wanted to hear her moan his name and scream, he mused, and felt his cock twitch a little in response. Yeah, I like to hear her.

"Mulder. I mean, Master. I want you to untie me now." Shit, what is that safe-word. Oh right, how could I forget. "Flukeman. Mulder, I mean it. Untie me now. We need to talk." Scully looked up from the gurney where her full-time partner, lover, and once a week Lord and Master had carefully secured her. She smiled up at him, a bit sadly. This had been fun, but lately, things had been getting, well, a bit out of hand.

She sat up, swung her legs over the side and looked around for her robe. Not finding it, she shrugged, and walked naked into the living room, where Mulder was already lounging on the sofa in front of the television, remote in hand, flipping through the channels.

He looked up, and without stopping the channel surfing said, "I thought you wanted to get dressed."

"No, Mulder. Master." She finally settled on: "Fox. I just wanted my robe. I know I am not supposed to be wearing any clothing today."

"That's true, but you said flukeman and said you wanted to talk." He beckoned for her, then pulled her down into his lap and started nuzzling her hair and stroking her clavicle with the tip of his index finger. God. Her skin was so soft. He would never tire of touching her. Jeez he was a lucky bastard.

"By the way, sweetcakes, don't call me Fox when we're in a scene. It completely breaks my mood." With great restraint, Agent Sweetcakes refrained from rolling her eyes at her Lord and Master, who in between switching channels had moved from nuzzling and stroking her neck to nuzzling and stroking her breasts. He was sporting a pretty good erection, from what she could feel. She looked down. Yep. So much for breaking the mood.

"Mulder. Wait. I do want to talk. May I have my robe?" Her nipples were starting to tighten in response and she was starting to feel moisture between her thighs as well. Dammit. "Mulder. Stop."

He looked at her. He had finally settled on a Yankee/Angel game that was in the final inning. And they say men can't multitask. "It's hanging in your closet, baby." The Yankees were winning, 7 to 3, top of the ninth, but now the bases were loaded. Rivera was pitching, Tim Salmon was up. Jesus fucking Christ. How the fuck had that happened?

She pushed off his lap, walked into the bedroom for the robe, then hesitated. What the hell, might as well go for broke. She put on her panties, a lacy bra, and a loose flowing, flower print dress. Not her usual style at all, but Mulder liked her in dresses, so now whenever she found one that suited her petite frame, she bought it. This was by Laura Ashley.

Having finished dressing, she walked back into the living room to find him slouched back, the TV off. She sat down next to him. "Who won?"

"We did. Rivera struck out the side." He looked at her, and his eyes narrowed. "Pretty. Very pretty. But I never said you could put your clothes on, just your robe. So you can take the dress off, go get me the paddle, and get back here." He smiled and patted his lap.

"Mulder. Flukeman. Really." She nearly stamped her foot in frustration but managed to stop. It was hard to maintain one's dignity wearing flowered chintz, which was exactly the point, she thought ruefully.

Mulder's face turned impassive. Shit. She is pissed at me for something. "You know what, I'm going to sit over here, rather than next to you. I think being close to you is a little too distracting." He moved over to the rocking chair that sat between the sofa and the fireplace, using the moment to recover his composure.

"So, what is on your mind, Scully?" He was hoping for the best but expecting the worst. She was bound to have gotten tired of him. He was surprised things had gone on for as long as they had. "Talk to me." Damn it. He needed to stay in control. He knew she hated weakness in men. She wanted a firm hand. Or so she said, he thought darkly. What a fucking joke.

"I have been feeling for the past couple of months that our role-play has started to get a little bit out of control."

Of course. That was the whole point of role-play, he thought, for you to give up control. But, wisely, Mulder did not say that aloud. He just nodded, and said, "Okay."

"Our original goal when we began last year, when I was returned, was to try desensitization, in the hope that my nightmares and other symptoms might over time subside. I was able to tolerate being bound and gagged for increasing amounts of time."

Mulder interrupted her speech. "I know all of that, Scully. I was there. Are you going somewhere with this?" He knew he sounded impatient. He closed his eyes and started counting his breaths One. In. Out. Two. In. Out.

"May I finish, please?" Before he could get any more upset, she continued, "I credit this unorthodox approach to my survival at the hands of Pfaster. I was able to keep my head and fight him off. It saved my life, and I am grateful." She looked over at the beautiful, brilliant but vulnerable man she had taken as her lover, and smiled. It was a warm, dazzling smile that she hoped would reassure him.

"But," he said, quietly. "There is a but coming, right?"

"I discovered that I liked giving up control to you. It turned me on. Moreover, it gave the sexual relationship we had started after my return clear boundaries. On Saturdays, we would put aside our partnership at the FBI. I would relinquish control to you, and let you take over." She gazed at him now in open adoration. Mulder didn't seem to have noticed.

"You're preaching to the choir here, Scully." He had leaned back, and folded his arms in front. "You wanted to surrender yourself to me, was the phrase you used." Yeah so you didn't have to take responsibility for fucking your partner, he thought bitterly.

"May I continue?" He is not going to like this. Well, that's just too damn bad, she thought defiantly.

"Yeah, baby, you can continue." I am so screwed. He slouched further down in the rocking chair, but kept his eyes open and on her.

"I still want to continue our special arrangement. But I want to renegotiate our hard limits," she said hesitantly. "I've discovered I have some new ones."

Mulder sat up. Maybe this was going to be okay. The kinky stuff was just for her benefit anyway. "Go on." Please, anything you want, he thought desperately. Just don't dump me.

"I no longer feel the need to role-play our difficult cases, Mulder. In addition, I would like to eliminate some things from our scenes." She got up, went to her desk and pulled out a small yellow pad.

"I would like to eliminate the following from our scenes," she began to read, "gurneys, body-bags, knife play, strangling, drowning…"

He interrupted her. "I was just pretending to drown you, Scully. You know that," he objected.

"I know, Mulder, but you were holding me under the water, and you had your hands around my neck," she pointed out.

"It's not really erotic asphyxiation," he started to say.

"It's dangerous, Mulder. Never Again," she said firmly.

"..if you're not actually being choked," he finished.

"I know what you were trying to do," she said softly. "Captain Draper's death was horrible and tragic. It did disturb me. But I don't need to relive it in our bedroom. Bathroom. Whatever." She went over to the chair, sat facing him on his lap, and took his clasped arms and wrapped them around her. That was better.

The tenderness and trust in her simple action started to relax the tension he had been feeling ever since she said "flukeman." He pulled her closer, and kissed her gently.

"Okay. That's fine, that's good. I guess what I need to know is what is still okay. Handcuffs?"

"I like the ones you attached to the sex cushion." She started smiling at the memory of the afternoons she had spent being ravished on the Wedge/Ramp combo.

Well. They were expensive, but money well-spent. His mind started getting hazy at the memories of ravishing her bent over, helpless on The Ramp. Okay, back to the business at hand.

"Toys?" She raised her eyebrow. The woman did like her toys. The next item could prove sticky, though. He took a deep breath.

"Punishment for disobedience?" He looked at her closely, because if she wasn't 100% with this, he wasn't going down that road again. She looked up at him and nodded, silently, snuggling closer.

"You get naked when I say get naked," he said hopefully. This last was pretty much a given. If you couldn't order your sex slave to undress, there wasn't much you could make her do. But he wanted to hear her say it.

She smiled, and gave him a squeeze. "On Saturdays, Mulder, you're the boss."

"Right. Right," he said enthusiastically. "Okay, then. I want you to take off your clothes, bring me the paddle and get back over here. Now." He lowered his voice and tried to sound commanding.

"Yes, Mulder."

"Yes, Master," he corrected her. She did want to be punished. This was going to be fun.

"Yes, Master." She tried to sound properly apologetic."Please don't punish me. I only wanted to talk." She started giggling, as she went to get him the paddle. This was going to be fun.

"You used your safe-word, we did talk, then you deliberately disobeyed me when you put that dress on. Take it off, Scully, and get over here," he said triumphantly.

She stood in front of him and slowly unbuttoned the shirtwaist and let the dress fall to the ground. She stood in front of him, clad only in her lacy white bra and panties, anticipating his reaction. He did not disappoint her.

"Oh, Dana, you put your bra and panties on, too," he said, clearly delighted by her actions. "You can leave them on for now. You are a bad, bad girl, Dana." He pulled her into his lap, unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the floor.

"You're pretty hot already, aren't you?" He started rolling her nipples, slowly, then pinched them gently and then a little harder.

"Yes, oh, yes, I..am. Oh. That's good, " she gasped.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak. Another provocation. I think you need something else. In fact, I think you need it bad. Don't you? Answer me now." He turned her over, grabbed the paddle, and smacked her firmly on her bottom.

She gave a little yelp and then breathily whispered her answer, "Yes, I do."

He pushed her panties down, and smacked her ass again, this time a little harder. God that felt good, they thought simultaneously.

"Tell me, baby, what you want, what you need," he commanded. This part was easy. He was hard as a rock.

"More and harder," she panted.

"And then what," he prompted, as he picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. She looked so wanton, her hair in disarray, her mouth swollen into a pout, her pink nipples as erect as he was. He decided that undressing was going to take too long. He unzipped his fly, and settled himself over her. "I can't hear you, tell me again."

"I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me. Oh, please. Mulder Now."

So he did. God, how he did love Saturdays.


End file.
